


A Little Help Here

by clotpolesonly



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Magic Reveal, random bandits - Freeform, remix eligible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 20:39:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3395582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clotpolesonly/pseuds/clotpolesonly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick trip to the Valley of the Fallen Kings for some herbs goes belly-up very quickly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Help Here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LarielAris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarielAris/gifts).



> As a celebration of reaching 1600 followers on tumblr, I'm doing a fanfiction giveaway. This is the first of the three fics to be finished, requested by LarielAris.

“Remind me again why we’re out here?”

Merlin waited until he’d finished working the delicate root out of the ground before he looked over his shoulder at Gwaine, who had his sword unsheathed and was holding it out to examine in the bright afternoon sunlight, twisting it back and forth to watch it glint with a critical eye. Merlin turned back, probing into the moist earth until he found another root.

“We’re picking herbs, Gwaine,” he said, feeling like he really shouldn’t need to point that out considering he was wrist-deep in dirt.

“You mean  _you’re_  picking herbs,” Gwaine countered, sheathing his sword again. “Why am I here?”

“Because this is the only place this particular plant grows around here, and it just so happens to be dangerous and filled with bloodthirsty bandits,” Merlin reminded him. “Also, coincidentally, you volunteered to escort me.”

“Arthur told me to.”

“No, Arthur said  _someone_  had to accompany me. He didn’t specify it had to be you.”

“Yeah, well,” he sighed. “I thought bandits would be more exciting.”

Merlin snorted but otherwise ignored Gwaine’s light griping. Merlin placed the two roots in his hands into the pouch slung over his shoulder and cursed Gaius for needing so many of these blasted things; he was going to have dirt under his fingernails for weeks. He dug up another and listened to Gwaine whistle, not actually all that put out about the afternoon’s activities.

Merlin probably shouldn’t have told Arthur  _where_  he was going herb-collecting because as soon as he’d heard it was the Valley of the Fallen Kings, Arthur was adamant that Merlin couldn’t go. He’d tried to forbid Merlin from going at all, but Gaius truly needed the herbs for legitimate medicinal purposes, and he couldn’t forbid that. Then Arthur had tried to insist that a knight go pick them instead, but no knight armed with a sketch and a description would be able to locate and properly handle roots like these. So Arthur had finally decided that Merlin could only go under guard. Merlin had been ready to pull his hair out at that point, or perhaps hit Arthur right there on the sidelines of the training field in full view of all and sundry, but Gwaine had sidled over, completely ignoring the warning signs of rising tension in both of them.

“Merlin’s trying to get himself killed again,” Arthur had said by way of explanation.

“Can’t have that, can we?” Gwaine had asked with a wry twist of his mouth.

“I am not. I’m picking bloody herbs,” Merlin had repeated yet again.

"In heart of bandit territory," Arthur shot back.

“Sounds like fun. I’m in.” Gwaine smiled at them both. He ruffled Merlin’s hair, clapped Arthur on the shoulder, and went back to his training, confident that the problem was fully resolved. Merlin had rolled his eyes and groaned in frustration, but if he had to choose a knight to babysit him, Gwaine probably would have been his first choice. And he was skilled enough that Arthur didn’t try to force Merlin to take another bodyguard along too.

So maybe Merlin would have been safer and more prepared to fight bandits if he had come alone, but Gwaine was one of his best friends and they hadn’t had enough time together recently so Merlin was willing to overlook how stupid it was that he have someone along to protect him. He had to force himself to remember that Arthur didn’t know he could protect himself better than any knight could and was just looking out for him because he cared. No one but Gaius knew that Merlin what was capable of and, as grating as it was, it was also for the best in the long run. There was no guarantee that Arthur would care so much about his well-being otherwise.

“So how many of those things do you need?” Gwaine called from the far side of the clearing where he appeared to be poking at a bush with his sword.

“As many as I can carry,” Merlin called back. “The more I get now, the longer it’ll be before I get sent out here again.”

“Ah, this isn’t so bad,” Gwaine said. “Better than skivvying for princess, eh?”

“I suppose you’re right about that,” Merlin conceded. “No horrid-smelling socks out here.”

“Only blue sky and fresh air.” Gwaine flopped down onto the ground beside Merlin, putting his hands behind his head. Merlin swatted at him, trying to push him further off.

“Careful! You’re going to squash what I came for, and then Gaius is going to squash  _you_.”

“Let him try!” Gwaine scoffed. “I think I could take him.”

“Gaius could kill you before you even knew you’d made his hit list. Do you have any idea how many poisons he has in his chambers?”

“Sneak attacks don’t count,” Gwaine said.

“They do if they succeed in killing you.”

“Bah!” Gwaine waved a hand in the air, unconcerned at the thought of Gaius’ numerous lethal concoctions. Merlin held up one of the strange roots Gaius had sent him out for, squinting speculatively.

“You know,” he said, a smirk twitching at his lips, “I’m pretty sure these can kill you too.” Gwaine looked up at him, eyes narrowed in skepticism.

“Is that so?”

“Oh yes,” Merlin said solemnly. “If they’re used properly. Like… _this_.” Merlin dropped the root, letting it thud onto Gwaine’s forehead. Then he immediately scrambled out of Gwaine’s reach as the knight shouted and swiped at him. It didn’t take long for Gwaine to catch up and then Merlin was the one on the ground, with Gwaine sitting on the backs of his legs and pinning his arms down.

“Uncle! Uncle!” Merlin cried, laughing. Gwaine released him and Merlin rolled onto his back, shifting the bag of roots to make sure it didn’t get crushed underneath him.

“You little shit,” Gwaine said, but he sounded more appreciative than anything else. He stood and offered Merlin a hand up, which he took. He reached out to ruffle Merlin’s hair, which Merlin only accepted with a wrinkling of his nose because he knew there was no escaping it. “You’ll need to faster to get away with something like that, little man.”

“Little man?” Merlin said indignantly. “I’m taller than you!”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not little,” Gwaine said, poking a finger into Merlin’s chest, then wrapping a hand around Merlin’s bicep, clucking his tongue. “Yup,” he said conclusively. “Little.” Merlin gave him a rather ineffectual shove and Gwaine shoved him back, knocking him off balance. Merlin pushed him harder, and then they were running again, with Merlin actually trying this time.

Merlin sped through the trees, leaping clear of obstacles in his path and setting his pack of roots bouncing against his back. Gwaine pounded along behind him, the distance between them maintained only because Merlin’s legs were actually longer than Gwaine’s by a decent bit. Gwaine shouted after him, calling him all sorts of colorful names and creative insults that Merlin would’ve laughed at had he had breath to spare. Merlin keep running, darting from tree trunk to tree trunk and twisting occasionally, when the ground was clear, to look over his shoulder and see where Gwaine was, laughing at the thrill of running without any real danger at his heels for once.

That is, until he burst through a stand of trees and almost stumbled right into a very large man with a very sharp axe in his hand. Merlin backpedaled frantically, taking in the scene before him in the split-second before full retreat: it was a sprawling camp made up of dozens of tents, several campfires surrounded by scruffy men in hides and spotty chainmail, and a defined perimeter of what were unmistakably dangerous men. The dangerous man directly in front of him bared his teeth in a snarl, his grip on his axe tightening as he raised it.

Merlin spun an abrupt about-face and took off again, extra force behind every footfall now. He nearly collided with Gwaine as he passed him, the knight still laughing, but Merlin just grabbed his arm as he passed and shouted, “ _Run! Now!_ ” Gwaine didn’t hesitate to take up the flight alongside him, no doubt hearing the shouts of the guard rousing the rest of his camp.

“I thought  _Arthur_  was supposed to be the one attracting danger like flies to honey,” Gwaine commented, managing to sound wry even as they sprinted for their lives.

“Yeah, well,” Merlin gasped out, not nearly as accustomed to running long distances as Gwaine, “they’ve obviously changed their minds about who makes the more appealing target.  _Less talking, more running_.”

Gwaine pushed forward to take the lead and Merlin followed in his wake, trying to match his steps to Gwaine’s more sure-footed ones as closely as possible to avoid tripping and making a meal of himself for bloodthirsty bandits. The day had been going so well, too. Of course they’d had to stumble into the cutthroat base of operations for the whole valley. It was just his luck and he should probably have been expecting this. He mentally berated himself as the battle cries behind him grew louder, along with the sounds of a horde of angry men thundering through the undergrowth.

They might have been able to outrun them long enough to find some sort of shelter to hide in if they hadn’t gravely miscalculated their direction and ended up at the edge of a cliff. Gwaine had to dig his heels into the ground and fling out an arm and catch Merlin hard in the chest to keep them both from careening over the edge. Merlin stared at the drop before them in dismay, wondering frantically if they could possibly survive a fall from that height and if it might actually be worth taking the risk, but Gwaine had turned to face their pursuers. The bandits began to trickle out of the trees, each with a smile on his face as they realized that their quarry was trapped. Gwaine drew the sword at his hip and held it ready, but he didn’t seem to have any illusions that it was actually going to do him any good.

“Merlin,” he said quietly. “You know I’m always one to pick the long odds, but this isn’t a bet even I would take. I could use a little help here.”

“Help?” Merlin asked. “What the hell sort of help are you expecting from me? I don’t have a sword, and I’m pretty useless with one anyway.”

“Er, no, Merlin. The other kind of help.”

Merlin stared at him, uncomprehending. Gwaine huffed an exasperated sigh.

“You know.  _Help_.” He waved the hand not holding his sword, wiggling his fingers at the bandits. Merlin stared a bit more, baffled, until Gwaine finally growled out, “ _Magic,_  Merlin, I mean  _magic._ ”

“ _What_?”

The bandits seemed to have tired of watching their prey cower. One of the larger ones held up his crossbow, calling over his shoulder at the rest to get ready to fire. Gwaine called Merlin’s name once more, sounding a bit more panicked this time, and Merlin threw out a hand. A glittering shield sprang forth around them just in time to catch the hail of incoming bolts and dissolve them in midair, leaving them to fall to the ground in little piles of splinters and arrowheads. Gwaine all but collapsed in relief beside him.

“Thanks, mate. Cut it a little close there, but—”

“How long have you known?” Merlin demanded, turning to face Gwaine fully. Gwaine gave him a nervous look, half an eye on their attackers, who were firing more bolts.

“Merlin, do you really want to have this conversation right now? We’re sort of under attack.”

“Dragonfire couldn't get through this shield, Gwaine,” Merlin said, paying absolutely no mind to the man who had come forward to hack at the shield with a sword and whom Gwaine was eyeing with alarm. “I highly doubt a handful of bandits are going to manage it. How long have you known??” Merlin repeated.

“Perilous Lands,” Gwaine said, watching the nearest bandit with something close to fascination now that he was sure of the shield's strength, reaching out to put a hand against the surface where the man was trying very determinedly to force his sword through and having absolutely no luck. Merlin reached out to pull him back, annoyed.

“Stop that,” he scolded. “The Perilous Lands was over a year ago, Gwaine. What the hell?”

“What?” Gwaine asked, sounding a bit indignant. “I figured if you wanted me to know then you’d tell me. Otherwise, it’s your business and none of mine.” The foremost bandit, thoroughly incensed at his failure, called back to his buddies and another six men came screaming towards them, throwing their backs into beating down the shield. Merlin made a noise of irritation at the increase of noise they brought with them and gave a push of magic that shoved the shield outward a ways, knocking the bandits off their feet and really only making them angrier.

“Should you really be doing that?” Gwaine asked, a little nervous. “Antagonizing them? I mean, can you defeat them all? Maybe get us out of here alive?”

“Of course I can get us out, Gwaine,” Merlin snapped, thoroughly off-balance from the whole situation and really not in the mood to be doubted. “And I don’t need to defeat them.  I just need to scare them.” Merlin gave the shield another push, knocking them all off their feet once more, then he dropped the shield entirely. Gwaine drew back behind him, wary of the possibility of long-range weapons coming back into play. Merlin raised a hand before him but didn’t do anything just yet.

“Drop your weapons and I will allow you to leave this place with your lives,” Merlin called out. A ripple of laughter went through his opponents, a few of them slapping their knees or pounding each other on the back in mirth.

“We yield to no one, puny sorcerer,” the lead bandit said. “We’ve held this valley for years and we will not be driven out by the likes of you.” Merlin gritted his teeth; why did no one recognize real power when they saw it? Did they really think such an impenetrable shield was a paltry task? Of course not, they would only appreciate loud bangs and pretty lights. No one had any perspective on magic nowadays.

“I will grant you one more chance,” he said. “Leave us in peace or you die where you stand.” He didn’t particularly want to kill anyone, but he would if it meant keeping himself and Gwaine from coming to harm. Besides, he was fairly certain he had the mettle of these men and he didn't think he wouldn’t have to fight them to the death. The bandits roared with laughter at his threat anyway, taking in his thin stature and threadbare appearance and drawing the same conclusion that everyone did; he was harmless, a hedgewizard at best. It grated, but the perception usually worked in his favor in the end.

“Take them out,” the lead bandit ordered, and Merlin sighed. It would be so much simpler if people would just take his threats at face value for once.

Merlin didn’t bother with a spell. He conjured up flames in his hands with a thought, the ball growing rapidly until it spilled out of his grasp and began to twist in the air before him. The bandits at the front of the charge faltered, and they took a hasty step back as Merlin’s flames began to spin, leaping and cavorting and growing higher still until there was a whirling pillar of fire that scorched the ground and made them fling up hands to guard their faces from the heat. It didn’t take long for every single rogue to turn tail and flee back into the woods, many of them dropping their weapons and leaving them behind without a backward glance.

When the last of them had disappeared, Merlin dropped his hands and let his conjuration peter out into nothing. He huffed a sigh and turned back to see Gwaine looking almost as dumbstruck as the bandits had been, though with a touch of awe rather than fear. Merlin rolled his eyes, unaccountably irritated. He turned and stalked back in what he was pretty sure was the general direction of Camelot and Gwaine quickly fell in behind him.

"Merlin, mate, where the hell did _that_ come from?"

" _That_ wasn't much of anything. Showy, but easy," Merlin said shortly. "Well," he amended, "I say _easy_. Easy for me, at least."

"Easy for you?" Gwaine repeated. "And for everyone else?"

"Not as easy, but nowhere near as difficult as that shield. Why does no one ever appreciate defensive magic? It's vastly underrated."

"You said dragonfire couldn't get through that shield," Gwaine recalled, "and you sounded pretty sure of that. Had plenty of opportunities to test that, have you?"

"Yes. Several."

"Bloody hell."

Merlin stopped in his tracks and turned to face Gwaine. "Why did you never tell me you knew?" Merlin wasn't sure why that hurt, but it did. He knew it should really be the other way around, knew that he was the one who had been dishonest first, but still.

"I told you," Gwaine said. "I thought if you wanted me to know, you'd tell me. It was obviously something you wanted to be a secret, so I figured I'd help you keep it."

Merlin scratched a hand through his hair, conflicted. On the one hand, Gwaine's reaction was really one of the best he could ever have imagined. He had taken it in stride, had never once looked at Merlin differently or changed the way he treated him, and hadn't said a word to anyone about it. He'd realized that it was a high-risk position for Merlin to be in and had honored Merlin's wishes for the secret to remain secret. But at the same time, it had been a long time since Merlin had had someone to confide in where magic was concerned. Gaius could only do so much for him, really, and since Lancelot's death, Merlin had made do on his own. It was lonely, and knowing Gwaine was in on it and was standing by him would've made all the difference in the world. Merlin didn't say any of this, though. He wasn't sure he knew how, and he didn't really want to minimize what Gwaine had done for him by wishing he'd done something else.

"Besides," Gwaine said, distracting Merlin from his thoughts. "I thought you were probably using your magic for small things like chores, not for fighting dragons and sending brigands running for their lives." Merlin let out a bark of laughter that was half amused and half bitter.

"Oh, Gwaine. You have no idea." Merlin took up walking again. Gwaine jogged ahead until he could face Merlin, walking backwards in a show of agility that Merlin envied.

"So what _have_ you been doing?" Gwaine asked. "When'd you actually start up with all the—" He waved a hand again like he had at the bandits, some sort of signal that was supposed to stand for magic but which just looked patently ridiculous.

"I didn't 'start up'," Merlin said, shoving hands into his trouser pockets and feeling strangely vulnerable in admitting it. "I've just always been like this. I didn't use it for much of anything when I was young, but since I got to Camelot I've used it mostly to keep Arthur alive. He needs all the help he can get."

"Why would you want to do that though? Keep Arthur safe," he clarified. "The Pendragons aren't exactly the biggest advocates for your people." Merlin shrugged.

"Doesn't mean I wanted him dead," he said. "Besides, the first time I saved his life it was from a woman intending to murder Uther's son because he'd executed hers. It wasn't because of anything _Arthur_ did. It was just a senseless killing of an innocent person." Merlin huffed a laugh, thinking back on his and Arthur's first encounters. "Even if he was an ass and I wanted nothing to do with him, I wasn't going to let him die when I was the only one who could save him.

"And after that...well," Merlin shrugged. "I choose to protect him for the same reason you choose to follow him as you would never follow any another; he's a good man and a great king. Even through the unbearable prattishness, it didn't take me too long to catch onto that." Gwaine watched him for a moment, expression hard to read. Then he nodded and turned to walk forwards again.

"So," he said after a lengthy, contemplative silence. "Dragons, huh?"

"Yeah, dragons," Merlin laughed.

"More than one?"

"Nah, the same dragon more than once."

"How'd that happen?"

"Surely you've heard stories of the Great Dragon's attack on Camelot," Merlin said. "You can't have been a knight in Camelot for almost two years without hearing stories."

"Eh, maybe a few ones, but none of those knights were there," Gwaine said. "I want the firsthand experience."

"Leon was there."

"Leon's a horrible storyteller. Dry as a bone, sounds like he's reading a report to the council," Gwaine complained. "Where's the fun in that?"

"Big dragon swooping around, lots of fire, screaming and death and destruction all around," Merlin listed off. "Wasn't a whole lot of fun to be had, honestly."

"Alright, fair enough there. But still, I'll bet you tell the tale better than stodgy old Leon. When you try, that is."

"I've got plenty of fun magic stories, Gwaine," Merlin said. "That just doesn't happen to be one of them."

"Oh, do you?" Gwaine said, much more intrigued. He turned on the spot to walk backwards again and Merlin rolled his eyes even though he was smiling. "Then it's a good thing we've got a long walk back because you're going to tell me every single one." Somehow Merlin didn't mind the thought of that.

 


End file.
